


you anchor me back down

by ginger__snapped



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Homeless Peter Parker, Not Canon Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger__snapped/pseuds/ginger__snapped
Summary: peter parker's been out on the streets for months. the pain of his past haunts him with every step, and he wonders if he will ever get better.tony stark is hurt. on so many levels. he just wants to feel okay.maybe, by some twist of fate, the two of them can help each other learn to be whole again.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 74





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> work title from the song anchor by mindy gledhill which i skated to years ago and will always be special to me  
> //when all the world is spinning round  
> like a red balloon way up in the clouds  
> and my feet will not stay on the ground  
> you anchor me back down//

Peter’s almost used to the cold now. But only almost. It’s still biting, the tips of his fingers numb as he attempts to open his webshooters. 

“Shit,” he mutters, the canister dropping down onto the gravel on the rooftop, the sound lost to the Queens traffic. 

He manages to fix the issue, scanning the area before pulling his mask on and taking a running leap. 

This is his one freedom. Free-falling through the air, adrenaline pumping through his body, keeping the overwhelming exhaustion at bay. This is his time to forget everything, to not worry about where he’ll sleep, or where he’s going to get food from, or what his friends think, or what he’s going to do when he inevitably runs out of web fluid again. 

But for now, he enjoys the wind against his face and the grounding tug of the web fluid in his hand. 

***

Peter doesn’t realize he’s almost out of web fluid until it’s too late. He presses the button, and nothing comes out, sending him hurtling through the air and onto the top of a building. He hits the ground hard, rolling a few times before running into a wall and stopping on his back, dizzily staring up at the dark sky. 

He’s so dehydrated and tired that it takes him much, much longer than it should for his vision to clear and his head to stop spinning. 

He’s assessing the damage done to his suit when there’s the sound of repulsors, and Peter’s tugging his mask back on and whirling around. It’s a bad idea -- the harsh movement sends him stumbling, and he barely catches himself, leaning heavily on the wall next to him. 

“Whoa there, Spider-Man.” 

Peter stares warily as the Iron Man suit lands in front of him, folding away to reveal the  _ actual Tony Stark _ . The geek inside Peter is freaking out, but he stands, ready to run, body tense. 

“That was a hard hit you just took,” Tony says, straightening the cuffs of his jacket and analyzing Peter. He feels immensely small and insignificant under Tony’s scrutinizing gaze. 

Peter shrugs. “I’ve had worse,” he says softly. Tony’s eyebrow lifts, and he tosses something that Peter barely catches towards him. It’s a container of his web fluid. Or one of Tony’s design, Peter doesn’t know. Either way, he’s thankful, because it’ll get him more time before he has to figure out what to do again. Peter holds tight to it, hoping that Tony doesn’t want it back. 

“I looked at your web stuff. Genius tech, I’ll be quite honest. Took me a while to figure out something close to the original.” 

“You’ve been following me?” Peter asks, crossed between freaking out because  _ wow Iron Man knows who I am  _ and being angry because  _ why would he be following me? _

“I watch,” Tony says. “You’re an interesting one.” He pauses, looking like he wants to say more, but he shakes his head. 

“Thanks?”

Tony sighs. “Look. I’m in a...situation. And I need some help.”

“What kind of help?” 

“I’m going to offer you a deal,” Tony says. He’s all business now, standing straight and looking Peter in the eyes. Or -- the eyes of the mask. “You help me, and I get you the best upgrade you’ll ever see.” 

“What kind of help?” Peter repeats.

“I need someone non-lethal. Someone to help me stop them before it’s too late and everything goes to shit. But I can’t tell you details until you agree. So -- will you help, or no?

Peter contemplates this. The good seems to outweigh the bad -- a place to sleep (probably), food (again, probably), an upgrade, and hanging out with Iron Man. The bad -- Tony Stark might figure out who he is and try to take the one thing he has left away. 

“I’ll agree on one condition -- I keep my mask on, no matter what.” 

Tony stares at him. “You know, kid, you don’t have to. I’m not spilling secrets here.”

“I keep the mask on, or it’s no deal.” 

They hold eye contact for what feels like an eternity before Tony sticks his hand out. 

And so began the new chapter of Peter’s life. 


	2. the cracks in my past run so deep i fear they will never heal

The plane was the nicest place Peter had been in months. He was afraid to touch anything, sitting rigidly in the chair and counting his breaths to avoid panicking. The head of security - Happy, as he had said before shuffling away to the other side of the jet - was staring at him, but Peter tried to ignore that. 

“Ever been on a jet?” Happy asks.

“No,” Peter says hesitantly. “I’ve never been out of New York before.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Happy mutters, too low for anyone but Peter to hear. 

Peter swallows, and tries to lean back in the chair.

***

“Holy shit,” Peter murmurs, walking into the hotel room. 

“This is for me?” he asks, turning to face Happy. 

“Yep. Try not to destroy it. And don’t touch the alcohol.”

And with that, Peter was left alone. 

He tugs off his mask, breathing in the fresh air. The room was  _ huge _ . As big as his old apartment, maybe bigger. And he was going to sleep here. And Tony Stark was paying for it. 

And Peter was spiraling. 

He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall and steadying his breathing. 

He was fine. 

Peter walks further into the room. There was a whole living room and bedroom, both with a TV, and a bar stocked with various drinks and snacks. A pair of pajamas were neatly folded on the bed, next to a tray with a few chocolates and a bag of chips. 

Peter’s eyes widen, and he rushes towards it, eagerly opening the chocolate and breathing in the sweet scent. He hadn’t had chocolate in  _ ages _ . 

The chocolate and chips were gone in minutes, Peter sighing contentedly and falling back on the bed. It was so  _ soft _ , and Peter closed his eyes, angrily blinking back tears. 

It was all so stupid. 

He rolls onto his side, curling his knees towards his chest and staring at the swirling patterns of the wallpaper. 

It wasn’t fair that his parents died. It wasn’t fair that Ben died. It… it wasn’t fair that May died. And it sure as hell wasn’t fair that Peter didn’t have somewhere to live. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t go to school because he couldn’t afford the tuition because his guardians were all dead. It wasn’t fair that he just disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving his friends alone. 

But that was the way of the world, and Peter found that his vision was blurry with tears. He sniffed, angrily scrubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes, sitting up and staring down at his tattered and burned suit. 

He looked like a joke. 

There was a knock on the door, and Peter tensed, pulling the mask back on his face. 

“Kid! Open up!” 

Peter recognized Happy's voice, and he loosened up, hurrying to open the door. 

“You ready?”

Peter nods, watching as Happy scanned him, disbelief spreading over his features. 

“Where’s the suit?” 

“Wha-”

“The new suit?”

Happy grumbles, pushes past him, and opens another door that Peter had thought was a closet. But no - there was a whole other room, with a case on the table, and Peter watched with wide eyes as Happy opened it, a brand new Spider-Man suit looking at him. 

“Get it on and get out there. Fast.”

Peter nods and rushes towards it, holding his hands over it, almost scared to touch it. It was so advanced and high tech, and… and something he didn’t deserve. 

Peter shakes his head, pushes the thought away, and changes suits. 

***

He was staring at Captain America. The man who he used to stare at with glazed eyes as he lectured them on some stupid thing. The man who he was supposed to fight. 

He swallows. 

“Underoos!”

Peter jerks into action, shooting his web and smiling under the suit as the shield lands in his hands. 

“Nice job, kid,” Tony says, nodding slightly at him. 

“Thanks! Well, I could’ve stuck the landing a little better, but it’s just, new suit-” Peter stops, panicking for a second and trying to backtrack. “Wait! It’s nothing - it’s perfect, Mr. Stark, thank you-”

“Yeah, we don’t need to start a conversation.”

“O-okay.” Peter turns towards Captain America, awkwardly saluting.”Cap. Captain. Big fan. Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” Tony says, giving Peter a look that Peter swore was on the verge of fondness. 

“Hey everyone,” Peter says, waving slightly. 

“Just -- good job.”

Peter grins. Tony Stark thought he was doing a good job. 

***

Peter winces, poking at the bruise forming on his ribs. It  _ hurt _ , and Peter was dizzy and weak with pain, mask tossed away on the chair and wearing the pajama pants but no shirt, still trying to assess the damage. 

It was bad. 

He needed food, he needed sleep, and he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. 

But he didn’t know if he was allowed to eat, if he was allowed to order food, or if he was allowed to touch the snack bar. 

Peter gingerly laid back on the too-big bed, vision blurring with tears as pain shot through his body. 

A hit like that shouldn’t have thrown him off so much, but in his severely weakened state, it was more than he could handle. 

There was a knock on the door. 

Peter shot up, a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over him, his vision going black around the edges. 

He heard the door open, and he lurched out of the bed, hand out to grab his mask, and he fell to the ground, vision blacking out before his knees touched the carpet. 

***

Tony had seen a lot in his life. However, a kid straight-up fainting in front of him was not something he expected to ever see, and he stood in shock in the doorway for a second before rushing forwards. 

“Shit,” he mutters, hands hovering uselessly over the kid’s body. 

He was so  _ small _ . 

He had seemed short when Tony saw him, but looking at the way his ribs protruded from his body, skin dirty and bruised. This was the same body that Tony had watched take hit after hit, popping back up and continuing to swing and fight. 

Tony felt sick. 

But a second later, the kid’s eyes flew open, full of panic, scrambling backwards from Tony. 

The two held eye contact for a long while, before Tony sighed, stood up, and grabbed a bag of cookies from the snack bar, tossing it to him.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asks softly, picking up the menu and scanning through the options. 

The kid shrugs.

“Can you at least tell me your name?” 

The kid hesitates for a moment. 

“Parker,” he says finally.

“Right,  _ Parker _ , you look like literal death, so you are going to sit down and eat a full meal and then shower and then I want a full explanation from you.” 

Parker - if that was even his name - looks down, muttering a “Yes, sir,” under his breath and fidgeting with the fabric of the pajama pants.

“Hey,” Tony says, softening his voice. “You’re not in trouble. I just… I need to know what’s going on, okay?” 

Tony glances at his watch, brow furrowing. He had to leave in ten minutes - Rhodey would be back at the compound in two hours. 

“You know what?” he says, glancing back up at Parker. “Get that shirt on and grab the case, okay? We’re just going to head back together. But we have to go quick, so chop-chop.”

He scrambles to his feet, pulling on the shirt and following Tony out the door. 

***

Peter was again, awkwardly seated on a jet seat, anxious hands twisting in his lap. He had wolfed down the food Tony had placed in front of him when they sat down, but now he felt out of place and wrong again.

“Ever played Scrabble?” Tony asks suddenly. 

Peter jerks, eyes wide. He shrugs again, eyes returning to his hands. 

Tony sighs. 

“Look, Parker. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty fucking anxious right now and I think that you are too, so I think we should play Scrabble and try not to have nervous breakdown, alright?” 

Peter nods once, and Tony gives him a tight-lipped smile, standing up and returning a minute later with the red box in his hands.

Peter watches in silence as Tony sets it up, and stays silent throughout the entire game. 

“Well shit,” Tony finally says. “You beat me, Parker.” He smiles at Peter, who tries his best to return it. “You must be pretty smart, huh?” he asks, sweeping the tiles back into the bag.

“I used to go to Midtown,” Peter says softly. 

“Used to?” 

Peter glances up, panic evident in his eyes, and shakes his head. 

“I didn’t, like, get kicked out or anything,” he says in a rush. “I swear I didn’t do anything. I just couldn’t afford it anymore.” 

It was a half-truth to cover up the fact that there was no one to pay for it.

Tony nods, leaning back in his chair. 

“Midtown. That’s pretty great, Parker. I-”

“It’s Peter,” he bursts out, immediately shrinking into himself after the admission. 

Tony smiles. “Okay, Peter. You’re one smart cookie, huh?” He glances at his watch, and then gestures towards the seatbelt.

“We’re about to touch down. Natasha is there - she’ll show you the room you can stay in until we sort things out.” 

“Sort things out?” Peter questions, heart picking up as his mind goes through all the meanings that could have. 

“Yeah,” Tony says lightly. “With the suit.”

“Oh.” 

They were silent until the jet landed, and silent as they walked off, until Tony turned around, Peter stopping abruptly. 

“Okay, Peter, I really need to go, but I’ll see you soon, and just stay here until I get back, okay?” 

Peter didn’t have time to nod before Tony was off, running through the halls to somewhere.

“So you’re the one stealing my branding, huh?” 

Peter jumps, eyes widening as he sees Natasha leaning against the wall, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, hair looking surprisingly good being that she had just been in a fight.

“I — uh — well -”

“Relax,” Natasha says, pushing off the wall and walking over to him. “Black Widow is better than Spider-Man anyway.” 

She starts walking, sending a small smile back at Peter and motioning forwards with her head. 

“You coming?” 

Peter scrambles after her, following her through the building until they arrive at a sleek door, Natasha pushing it open and gesturing for Peter to go in. 

“Tony says to tell you that you’re free to do whatever as long as you don’t break anything.” She started walking away, calling back “And no spidery things!” 

Peter swallows, turning and looking in the room. 

It was modern and plain, a large bed in the middle, a desk, a bookshelf with a few books, a closet, and a door that Peter assumed led to a bathroom. He sighed, crossing the room and sinking down onto the plush mattress of the bed.

He still felt sore, every part of his body aching and sending random pains shooting up his limbs. Peter stared at the floor, trying to wrap his head around the events of the past 48 hours. 

He was sitting on a bed in a room that was in the Avengers Compound. Tony Stark had asked him to fight alongside him, and he had played  _ Scrabble with Tony Stark and beat him _ . And he had fought Captain America, and some dude that turned giant, and a girl who could move stuff with some red magic-y stuff, and came to the epiphany that he was now in the world of superheroes for good. 

What had become of his life? 

***

Tony wasn’t an idiot, despite what Natasha had hissed at him when he’d confessed his plans to her. He’d been thinking - thinking about the kid, thinking about Rhodey, thinking about Rogers and Barnes. His mind was on a cycle of three things — Rhodey, lying on the ground. The kid — Peter — small and bruised and frail. And the shield, coming down towards his face, but smashing into his chest. 

He blinks, muttering a curse when he realizes that he’d been standing under the burning water for almost half an hour. He quickly shuts off the shower, and steps out, shivering in the cold air. He made haste of drying and getting dressed, wanting to chuck the arm sling across the room. He didn’t bother styling his hair, dressed in sweats and an old band tee, hands still shaking. 

Tony walks through the Compound, steps echoing slightly in the empty halls. He walks mindlessly, coming to stop in front of the room he told Natasha to take Peter into. He lifts his hand to open the door, trying to mentally steady himself for this conversation. Tony exhales softly, pushes open the door, and glances around the room. 

Peter’s head snaps up from where he’s curled up on the chair, book in hand. 

Tony tries to smile, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, watching as Peter carefully bookmarks his page and stands, moving to join Tony. 

“Thank you,” Tony says quietly, clearing his throat. “And sorry, also.”

“For what?” Peter asks, tilting his head. 

He looks better. There’s some color in his cheeks, and an empty plate on the desk, and his hair is soft and curly and he looks clean. This relieves Tony, and he briefly closes his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“The...fight,” Tony says, waving his hand around as if searching for the right words. 

Peter shrugs. 

“It’s fine. I should be saying thank you-”

“Don’t,” Tony interrupts. “Please. Don’t — don’t thank me. Seriously. I…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Anyway,” he starts again, eyes analyzing Peter, “we need to talk.” Tony watches as Peter stiffens, posture more guarded and body tense. 

“About what?”

“I need you to tell me the truth,” Tony says softly. “I can’t — I don’t — Peter, I need to know what’s going on, because I can’t just send you back out into the world with a clear conscience.” 

Peter looks like he’s having a war inside his head, and Tony’s almost ready for him to bolt, but Peter sighs shakily, and sinks down onto the chair, pulling his knees to his chest. 

“No judgement?” Peter asks softly, not meeting Tony’s eyes. 

“No judgement,” Tony affirms, sitting down on the bed. 

Peter starts at the beginning of his horror tale, eyes glossing over as he explains that his parents — Richard and Mary -- are dead, and have been for years. He mentions off-handedly that he started struggling after that, but doesn’t elaborate. He says that his aunt and uncle took him into their small Queens apartment, and how he got into Midtown on a full scholarship. He looks wistful as he talks about how happy the three of them were. He talks about that field trip, and how he was bitten by a spider. How he created Spider-Man, sneaking out and helping the city at night. But then, a car accident, a phone call, and knock at the door later, and Peter’s world was torn apart. He says, with tears in his eyes, that he ran off, scared that he’d be put in foster care or in a children’s home, and he wouldn’t be able to be Spider-Man anymore. 

_ “It’s all I have left. It’s my one freedom _ , _ ”  _ he says, voice breaking slightly. 

He says it’s been around eight months since the accident, eight months since he’s had a proper place to sleep, eight months since he’s seen his friends, eight months of school he’s missed, eight months of wondering if and where he’d get food. 

Tony’s heart aches.  _ This fucking kid _ . 

“Please don’t put me in the system,” he whispers, voice so small and broken that Tony wants to cry. He never considered himself to be suited for domestic life, believing he had no paternal instincts and would be a terrible father. But something rose up in his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap this kid up and protect him and he hated the world for putting Peter through all that. 

But Tony didn’t reach out, and instead nodded, standing up. 

“I won’t,” he says softly. “I’ll figure out an arrangement - you can stay here for as long as you’d like.” Tony stands, headed towards the door. He’s panicking inside, doesn’t know what’s appropriate and what’s not, if he can hug him or leave him alone. “Did you want me to look into getting you back at Midtown?” 

Peter looks up, hope flashing in his eyes. 

“Really?” 

“I — yeah. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Peter frowns. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Upstate,” Tony says, then realizes where Peter is going with this. “The drive won’t be a problem. If that’s where you want to go,” Tony adds, watching Peter for his reaction. 

He looks relieved. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose or anything, like, you taking me in is already enough, seriously, thank you—”

“It’s no problem, kid.”

Peter nods, and they fall into a silence that’s slightly awkward. 

Tony clears his throat, opening the door. 

“Right,” he says. “Um, just, like, ask Fri if you need anything. Just ask the ceiling. Pretty much. You’re welcome anywhere. Except bedrooms. But yeah.” 

Tony nods, and walks out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ily all for reading!! any feedback is appreciated!! thank you!!


	3. so tired trying to see from behind the red in my eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title inspiration from jackie and wilson by hozier  
> //so tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes  
> no better version of me I could pretend to be tonight  
> soul deep in this swill with the most familiar of swine  
> for reasons wretched and divine//

The compound is a strange place. It’s huge, first of all. Peter’s never been anywhere like it, and it’s all a little overwhelming. How he went from sleeping on the streets to being basically alone inside a multi-million dollar technological haven in 24 hours baffles him. That’s another thing — there’s almost one else in the compound. Tony’s there, obviously, but he’s clearly going through some shit, so Peter’s left to his own devices most of the time. Vision is also in the compound, but he mostly sticks to himself. Peter thinks that everyone’s a little fucked after what just happened. 

Peter discovers lots of things the first week he’s at the compound. At first, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he reads the few books that are in the room the first day, leaving twice for food. The third time he leaves the room, after waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, the darkness of nightmares receding, he finds Tony at the kitchen table, glazed eyes staring at a cup of coffee in front of him. He startles when he sees Peter, straightening up and morphing his face into one of nonchalance. 

“Whatcha doing up?”

“Just -- couldn’t sleep” 

“Yeah.” Tony laughs, forced and laced with exhaustion. “I get that.” His tone is much lighter than the implications behind it, and Peter can see the signs of sleep deprivation and pure fatigue clear as day. He knows because they’re the same signs he sees in himself. 

_ Takes one to know one _ , he thinks bitterly. 

Tony clears his throat. “So. Uh, looking for anything in particular?”

“Um. I don’t know. I was gonna eat something. If that’s okay. Just -- spider metabolism. I have to eat more than the average human.”

“Kid, knock yourself out. Eat whatever. I’m not...I’m not Bruce, but I know enough to say that you should probably be eating more to make up for the body mass you lost while…” Tony trails off, waving a hand in a ‘you know’ gesture. 

Peter shrugs. 

“Can’t really...eat more. My body’s kinda used to functioning off of basically nothing. So, like, eating too much fucks everything up and I can’t…” Peter sighs. “I have to slowly build up again. It’ll be too much for my body to handle.” 

Tony nods, eyes slightly narrowed as he analyzes Peter. He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but then closes it, clearing his throat again. 

“You don’t have to stay holed up in that room,” Tony says lightly. “Fri will tell you if you’re not allowed somewhere, and, no hard feelings if you aren’t, it’s just that this is a high security compound and we’ve only known each other for like three days.”

“Okay.”

Tony abruptly stands, shaking his head slightly before gesturing for Peter to sit down. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ve been talking...you came down for food and I made you awkwardly stand and listen to me ramble...just -- are Frosted Flakes okay?”

“I -- sure.”

Peter slides into the chair, watching in shock as Tony Stark makes him a bowl of Frosted Flakes, before sitting in the chair opposite him, his own bowl in front of him. They eat in silence, and it’s peaceful. The screams and suffocating darkness of his dreams are long gone by the time Tony gets up, telling him he can use the TV if he wants to. 

***

Peter meets Rhodey the next day. He’s headed to the kitchen to find something to eat when he walks in on Tony and Rhodey sitting on the couch, a hologram spinning in front of them. Peter freezes. He and Rhodey lock eye contact, and Peter can  _ feel  _ his piercing stare looking into his soul. 

“Tony?” Rhodey asks, voice even. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, that’s Peter. He’s staying with us.” 

“Hi,” Peter squeaks, and Tony gives him an amused look. 

“Why?” 

Tony claps Rhodey on the back. 

“He’s got nowhere else to go.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter blurts, flushing and nodding, as if confirming what he said. 

Rhodey raises an eyebrow. 

“ _ He’s  _ Spider-Man? Jesus, Tones, didn’t know we were recruiting middle schoolers.”

“He’s not on the team,” Tony corrects, as Peter indignantly says “I’m  _ fifteen _ !”

Tony rolls his eyes. 

“Right, kid, I need to talk to you later. Right now we’re discussing secret things. Go...read a book. Or something.” 

“Right! Um, nice meeting you, Mr. War Machine. Colonel Rhodes.”

“Rhodey.”

“Right. Okay, uh, bye.”

***

Tony wants to talk to him about school. 

He sits Peter down at the table, places multiple cartons of Chinese food between the two of them, and orders him to eat. 

“You said you have a freaky spider metabolism, right? Eat up, kid. Can’t have you starving on my watch.”

Peter watches as Tony collapses into the chair opposite him, pulling a carton of orange chicken to himself and almost inhaling it. 

“Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”

“What?”

“Call me Tony. Continue.”

“Um, no, anyway, you didn’t have to--”

“Nope. Cut it, Parker. You’re gonna let me do nice things for you and you’re not going to feel bad, capiche?”

Peter opens his mouth, but he’s not sure what to say. 

Tony sighs. 

“Look, kid, just...just let me do one good thing for someone, alright?”

“Um, yeah, okay,” Peter says, and grabs a carton of chow mein. 

There’s about ten minutes where the only sounds are chopsticks against the cartons, before Tony sighs, leaning back in the chair. 

“So. School.”

Peter freezes, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. 

“Don’t give me the deer in headlights look -- it’s the middle of the school year. You still need to go.”

“I -- okay.”

“Did you or did you not want to go to Midtown?”

“You do realize that, like, I can’t just...go back, right? Like, I need...I need a, uh, a guardian? They’ve probably dropped my scholarship by now. And the enrollment process…” Peter sighs. “No matter  _ what  _ school I go back to -- if I can -- you can’t just...say you’re going. Mr. Stark, I’m technically a free-floating orphan right now. The state doesn’t know where I am, nor do they care, and they’re probably going to put me in the system once they find out I’m not dead.” 

“No one...no one looked for you? After your aunt died?”

Peter scoffs, crossing his arms. “You think they care enough about some random teenager? No, someone probably showed up at our apartment, and when I wasn’t there, they gave up. What’s another kid on the streets to them?”

Tony looks pained. 

“I...I’ll talk to Pepper.”

***

Peter isn’t entirely sure where Tony is most of the time. The first week and a half at the compound is spent mostly in solitude, so Peter tries to make use of his time. 

So Peter wanders around the compound during the day, finding new rooms and places, and eventually, goes to sleep in the bedroom. He sleeps until the demons of his nightmares catch up to him, and he wanders out into the kitchen, where Tony makes him a bowl of Frosted Flakes and they sit in silence, the weight of the unspoken reality hanging over them. Peter knows that Tony knows why he isn’t sleeping, because they’re basically a mirror. And it frightens Peter, really, because for so long, Tony Stark was his idol. He wanted to be like him, wanted to be as cool and suave and save the world like Iron Man. But now, the curtain had lifted, and Peter knew the harsh reality of being a superhero. The exhaustion, the fear, the constant worry. Peter knows firsthand what it’s like to be constantly running from the demons in your own mind, and the fact that Tony clearly knows it too rips away the last shred of the blanket of childhood, where you are naive and unknowing of the pain of reality. It makes everything more real, more frightening. His idols and heroes are just as scared as he is. And it makes him wonder, makes him worry, because if the Avengers aren’t strong enough to cope, how will he?

***

Tony doesn’t know how to approach Pepper about the whole situation. Not just about Peter, but...everything. 

He misses her, a lot, and countless nights are spent awake, anxiety gnawing at his heart, until he gives up on sleep and goes out to the kitchen. As it turns out, he’s not the only one who does it. The kid meets him in the early hours of the morning, eyes tired and dark circles under his eyes. 

Tony also doesn’t know how to talk to Peter. He made a promise not to put him in the system, but the only way to avoid that is to become his guardian. Parent. Mentor. He doesn’t know how it works. And he doesn’t want to break the promise, because the kid looked so fucking  _ scared _ , and the way he’d said it, voice breaking, ripped Tony’s heart right out of his chest. 

_ “It’s all I have left. It’s my one freedom.” _

That leads him to the next problem -- the kid’s alter-ego. He’s Queens’ hero, but the compound isn’t exactly  _ in  _ Queens. But Midtown is. 

And then he’s back to the problem of what to do, and the whole circle of anxiety just keeps spinning round and round, and no matter how much he tries to bury himself in work, it doesn’t leave him alone. 

In the end, Pepper confronts him first. 

He’s deep in working on another suit for Peter, because if he’s going to send him back out there, he wants to know he’s going to be as safe as possible wearing spandex, when his music suddenly cuts, and there’s the familiar sound of heels clicking through his workshop. 

He freezes. 

The heels stop. Pepper’s standing right next to him. 

“Didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“Well, there’s kind of a huge mess you’ve created, and you haven’t reached out, so I had to do it myself.”

“Ah.” Tony swallows, nodding once. 

“What the  _ hell _ happened?”

“I -- uh…” 

Tony trails off, his throat dry. 

“It’s complicated,” he whispers, and suddenly his vision is blurring, so he squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling sharply. 

Pepper places a hand on his shoulder, and Tony can’t hold it back anymore, and all the emotions just come tumbling out. There’s a silent stream of tears running down his face, and he hears Pepper sigh as she sits down next to him, wrapping an arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder. 

She silently comforts him until he forces a nervous laugh out, running a hand over his face and taking in a deep breath. 

“Tony,” Pepper says, voice soft, “what’s going on?”

“What isn’t, Pep? The team’s fallen apart, and I just feel like everything’s gone to shit.”

“Oh, Tony.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, standing up. “Come on. It’s late. You should sleep.” 

Tony lets her pull him out of the workshop and into his bedroom. Their bedroom. He isn’t so sure anymore. 

“Go shower,” she says, so he complies. When he comes back out, she’s sitting on the bed, laptop on her crossed legs, typing away. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of cotton shorts. His heart twists in his chest. 

The two of them haven’t just...sat down and relaxed in a depressingly long time, and guilt squeezes at his stomach. He doesn’t even know if they’re together anymore. What they are.

He’s so afraid of losing her. 

Of course, he wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to be in a relationship with him. He’s all over the place, and completely unreliable, and he just puts everyone he loves in danger. The image of Rhodey, falling to the ground, flashes in his mind. Tony closes his eyes. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”

Tony’s eyes fly back open, and he takes in a deep breath before taking a seat on the bed next to Pepper. He’s tense. He doesn’t know...He doesn’t know where they stand. 

Pepper wraps an arm around him, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. Her fingers start threading through his hair, perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly at his scalp. Tony closes his eyes. Breathes in the familiar scent of Pepper’s perfume, still faintly lingering on her skin even after the day of work. Her work to cover up his fuck-ups. He inhales sharply. 

“Tony?”

There’s a million things he could say, could ask her, but his heart beats his brain to things, and he blurts out “I love you,” without thinking. 

Pepper’s hand stills. 

“I love you too, Tony.”

Tony lifts his head, looking Pepper in the eyes. He’s searching for something, a sign, the reassurance that he hasn’t lost  _ everything.  _ Pepper just looks...sad. It makes his heart ache. He feels so much, all the time, feels guilt and love and anger and fear, all burning hot and sharp inside him, so he just puts up a mask of unfeeling indifference, because it’s easy. It’s natural. It’s what he’s been doing his whole life. The Tony Stark of the press is not the Tony Stark that he feels like. But it’s better that way. The world would fall apart if Tony Stark was someone who felt, someone who cared, wouldn’t it?

“Please don’t leave,” Tony whispers, and Pepper nods. 

“Okay,” she says, and Tony finally falls asleep. 

***

He wakes up slowly. It’s not what he’s used to. He normally wakes up with a gasp and a jolt, heart pounding out of his chest and cold sweat drenching his back. 

The light confuses him, and he blinks wearily, eyes adjusting. Again, not what he’s used to. 

_ Peter _ , he realizes, and sits up. He slept through the night. Tony wonders if Peter was disappointed he wasn’t waiting in the kitchen. If he made himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes or went back to sleep. 

Someone shifts next to him. It’s Pepper. 

She’s still asleep, on her side, hair falling slightly in her face. Tony lets himself stare for a moment, taking her in, before he slips out of the bed to use the bathroom and figure out how to ask her. Before they figure out what to do about the Rouges, he needs to give Peter a definite answer. The kid deserves that, at least. 

Tony glances at the clock. It reads 10:07. He hasn’t slept this long since he was knocked out in a fight. 

He splashes some water on his face, and then goes back into the bedroom. Pepper is sitting up, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail. He flashes her a tentative smile. She returns it. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Better than I have in months.” 

Pepper’s hands come down to rest in her lap. Tony returns to the bed. 

“I have something I need to talk to you about,” he says, and Pepper instantly looks worried. 

“If it’s the Rouges --”

“No, no...it’s, uh, you know Spider-Man?”

“Vigilante in Queens, yeah. What happened?”

“I...brought him into the fight, as a non-lethal, and then some shit happened, and he’s currently residing in a guest bedroom downstairs.”

Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose. Tony continues, rambling so he doesn’t have to think. 

“He lost the last of his family, and he’s been out on the streets for months. He used to go to, uh, Midtown? Tech school down in Queens? I think he wants to go back, and I’d love to send him there, because then he could still patrol, and I think he really misses it, holed up here, but the problem is that he needs a, uh, like a guardian? Someone who can legally enroll him? Because he dropped off the face of the earth before this school year started so he wouldn’t be on the roster--”

“Tony.”

He stops. 

“You want to become...the legal guardian of a teenager you picked up off the streets to bring to a fight?”

“I didn’t know he was that young when I asked him.”

Pepper sighs. 

“That’s going to be a lot of legal work.”

“That’s why I hired good layers, wasn’t it?”

“So you could adopt random teenagers?” Pepper asks dryly.

Tony hesitates. 

“I don’t know about...adoption. Just...custody. Guardianship. Whatever the fuck it is. So he can stay here and it’s not kidnapping. So the kid can get his education.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Pepper says, smiling gently. 

“I -- what?”

She pats his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before sliding out of the bed. 

“It’ll be a learning experience. I think it’ll be good for both of you.”

“You’re not...upset?”

Pepper laughs, soft and light and tugging at memories of better times. 

“Why would I be? You’re growing, Tony.” Her voice softens. “I’m proud of you.”

Tony swallows. Nods. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re still in a load of shit over the Rouges. I think Ross might just want to kill you.”

“Fuck him.”

Pepper gives him a look. It’s almost like it was before. 

Tony grins. 

***

Peter passes out on the couch of the common room, Brooklyn 99 playing in the background. He’d come out, expecting to find Tony, but instead came across an empty, dark kitchen. So he’d just grabbed a bag of M&Ms and turned on the TV, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. He’d watched until he passed out from pure exhaustion, his body too tired to stay awake anymore. 

He wakes up to someone shaking him. 

“Hey, kiddo, up and at ‘em.”

Peter stares up at Tony, who’s leaning over the back of the couch, looking much more rested than Peter’s seen him.

“I’ve got someone I want you to meet. Breakfast is in the kitchen.”

Peter lets his head fall back onto the pillow, blinking up at the ceiling. 

“Come on, Spiderling, eggs don’t stay warm forever!” 

Peter doesn’t feel resentful over Tony missing their little midnight meeting. If anything, he’s almost jealous. He  _ wishes  _ he could sleep through the night. He sighs. 

Peter forces his weary body off the couch and into the kitchen, where he stops in his tracks. Pepper Potts is seated at the table, scrolling through her phone, a plate of eggs, toast, and fruit in front of her. 

Tony comes in from the kitchen, two plates in hand. 

“Sit,” he says, placing a plate down for Peter. “Come on, she doesn’t bite.”

“Tony,” Pepper admonishes. He doesn’t look ashamed. 

Peter does sit, glancing nervously between the two. 

Pepper reaches out a hand. Peter takes it.    
“Pepper,” she says, smiling. 

“I’m Peter. Parker.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter.”

There’s silence for a moment, where the three start eating, before Pepper smiles, looking at Peter. 

“You know, the first time Tony made me eggs, he spent three hours in the kitchen, and all he came out with was a burnt omelette.”

Tony looks offended. 

“Pep,” he says, “why’d you tell him that?”

“Growth,” she says, and gives him another look. 

Tony clears his throat. Takes a bite of his eggs. 

Peter analyzes the two of them, trying to figure out what's going on. 

“Peter,” Tony starts, setting his fork down. “I, uh, I was wondering if...would it be okay if I took legal custody of you? I mean, just so that you can go to school and stay here without it being sketchy, I’m not trying to impose or anything, but I promised not to send you into the system, so…” Tony trails off, and Peter stares in shock, trying to wrap his head around it. 

So they went from not knowing each other, to fighting alongside each other, to Peter staying in his house, to...adoption? Guardianship? Peter had lost everyone. His parents, then his aunt and uncle, leaving him an orphan twice over. He didn’t have any family. 

Anyone he got close to died. 

He didn’t want that for Tony Stark. 

“I...I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, and runs from the table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me?? with a semblance of an update schedule?? unheard of

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! tell me what you think!!  
> my tumblr is [@ginger--snapped](https://ginger--snapped.tumblr.com/) if you want to come yell at me!


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